


One Ring to Rule Makoto

by hisboywriter



Category: Free!
Genre: Corniness, Fluff, M/M, Tiny Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:02:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisboywriter/pseuds/hisboywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which good deeds are punished, and Makoto doesn't give himself enough credit.</p><p>Takes place after episode 12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Ring to Rule Makoto

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt (from marukaprompts on tumblr)
> 
> Makoto, being the perfect son, decides to help his mom pick out an anniversary gift for his father. They end up going with a ring, but once they get home his mom suddenly realizes that they didn’t get the ring fitted. Having the same ring size as his father Makoto tells his mom he’ll try it on for size. It gets stuck.
> 
>  I admit the prompt got away from me.

 

**-X-**

 

No good deed went unpunished.

 

Though Makoto had heard the expression long ago as a child, it rang clear in his head as he could only watch his mother fuss over his hand, his own efforts long expended.

 

“One more try,” his mother was grumbling to herself.

 

Once, Nagisa had told Makoto that he was too nice for his own good. Granted it had been in the spirit of playfulness, but Makoto learned early into their friendship that, like most things Nagisa said, truth had a way of underlining it all.

 

Somehow that was more eerie than an omen.

 

Now Makoto heard his friend’s voice in the back of his mind, growing like mold the longer he stared at the band cinched around finger.

 

“It’s stuck,” he announced, confirming what he knew the first time he tried to tug it off.

 

“What?” His mother grasped his hand, examined his finger again, then scoffed. “Nonsense. I’m sure one more go with the baby oil will slip,” she lathered his hand in the oil, “this,” a tug, “right,” a yank, “off!”

 

Makoto tensed and nearly cried out at the pain of his finger nearly popping out. Sweat beaded his forehead and he needed a few moments to catch his breath.

 

“Mom,” he said, shoulders sagging.

 

He should have known better than to let a piece of himself fantasize about things he shouldn’t have been fantasizing about when he’d slipped on the ring. In that simple gesture, he had dared to envision a future he wouldn’t get, and now—

 

“It’s not coming off,” he said.

 

“Oh,” she sighed, rubbing her thumb at the joint. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have agreed to let you try it on. Does it hurt?”

 

Makoto smiled at the gesture and shook his head. “Not if I leave it alone. It was my idea anyway. Plus, if it hadn’t been me, then Dad would be the one stuck, and that can’t be good luck.”

 

With a reluctant sigh, his mother peered at the clock. She sighed again, a heavier one. Following her gaze, Makoto noted the reason for her malaise. The shop had closed.

 

Of course.

 

“Don’t worry,” he told her, “I…I mean, we can just go back tomorrow, right?”

 

She met his gaze with that look that always upset his stomach as a kid. It was that same face when she had told his younger self his upturned goldfish weren’t going to wake up.

 

“The owner’s,” she hesitated, “on vacation. He won’t be back for three days.”

 

Makoto stared at her.

 

“Three days,” he repeated. Suddenly, one day felt weeks long.

 

She looked back down at his hand, analyzing what remedy might offer a chance of freedom. She seemed perplexed, as if never having confronted a problem that her mother’s tact had not overcome.

 

Makoto gently pulled his hand free from her grip. “It’s not so bad,” he assured her. “It’s just…three days, right? I can manage until then.”

 

“Ah,” his mother said, “but don’t you have plans?”

 

Makoto almost winced. “Yeah, Haru and I were going to catch up with the others later.”

 

The lines having creased his mother’s forehead smoothed out, now crinkling around her eyes as she smiled big. “Oh, why don’t invite Haru-chan over for dinner tonight then,” she said, in a way that implied seeing Haru would make Makoto forget about his predicament. “There’s a new recipe I’ve been meaning to try anyway. It’s mackerel.”

 

“O-Oh.” Makoto blinked at the shift in her smile, but his expertise in reading others could never extend his mother’s. This one had him feeling like ducking his head.

 

“What’s wrong?” she pressed. “This isn’t because you didn’t win the tournament?”

 

“No, not at all.” If anything, things were exponentially better since that fateful relay, and that might have supplied a part of the issue.

 

She tilted her head. “We’ve not seen Haru-chan since the competition. You two aren’t fighting,” she said, already deducing that wasn’t the source of the issue, yet had to say it anyway because that’s what mothers did.

 

“No, I—“ he trailed off, fumbling over his feelings and suddenly feeling like his shirt was five layers too thick. How could he summon up an explanation for something even he couldn’t make sense of? What could you tell a mother that wouldn’t hit their lying radar?

 

“Makoto.”

 

He raised his head, not remembering when he had lowered his gaze.

 

His mother was still smiling, a gentler one that always eased the frayed edges of any bad feelings he had as a kid. It was having the same effect now.

 

“You better get ready,” she said. When Makoto blinked, she gestured her head toward the clock. “Be mindful of your father’s gift.”

 

“Oh! R-Right. Are you sure?”

 

“Go on. No point in staying cooped up over this. I’ll try to think of something in the meantime.”

 

Makoto nodded. “Yeah, okay. Don’t worry about it though, really. I’ll be careful.”

 

Three days.

 

If he had to, could manage that.

 

Right?

 

In the corner of his mind, Nagisa laughed.

 

**-x-**

 

Nagisa laughed.

 

“Eh, Mako-chan, let me see, let me see,” he said, not waiting for a response to snatch Makoto’s wrist. He tilted Makoto’s hand this way and that, admiring the band after trying to work it off himself to no (painful) avail. “That thing’s on good and tight. It’s a very nice ring though…”

 

It had to have been an omen; Makoto had hoped to collect his wits on the way to Haru’s place, but a force beyond his control threw a curve at him in the form of a blonde with enough zeal to support a country. Nagisa had insisted he was on his way from the market, hence the bag in tow, and thought to stop by the Tachibana residence on the way back to the pool.

 

Makoto wasn’t sure he trusted the way Nagisa had smiled when he added how he knew Haru-chan was always Mako-chan’s first stop anywhere.

 

“The person who gave it to you,” Nagisa was saying, still gripping his hand, “must value you very highly, Mako-chan!”

 

“It’s…not like that.” Makoto felt a blush creeping up. He didn’t bother relaying, again, what had happened. It wouldn’t deter Nagisa’s line of commentary in the slightest.

 

“Mako-chan is such a kind person and this had to happen to him.” Nagisa sighed and released his hand before digging into his bag for what looked like a heart-attack disguised as bread. “Plus the owner’s away. That is very unlucky. Are you cursed?”

 

Makoto sighed too and flexed his fingers. It didn’t hurt, true, but there was a faint ache when he bent his finger. Maybe it really was a form of punishment. Not to mention it wasn’t the cold seasons, so stuffing his hand into a glove would bring more suspicions on him.

 

“I’d hope not,” he said.

 

At least the walk to Haru’s place meant less of a chance of running into schoolmates. Hopefully the same could be said for the route to the pool. That didn’t alleviate the fact that tomorrow was a school day. Had it really only been only one week since they got back from the tournament?

 

Rin was still the hot topic of latest gossip. Something warned Makoto that that would be old news by the time he went to class, or sooner if any schoolmates should spot them today. Makoto sighed and lowered his hand back to his side.

 

“You know,” Nagisa said around a mouthful, “you look good with that on, even if it’s a little tight. Mako-chan would make a decent husband. I think Rei-chan might agree.”

 

Makoto glanced at him as they turned a corner, then smiled. “I’m more worried about what Ren and Ran will say about it. They blab about everything to their schoolmates,” he said, chuckling.

 

Nagisa hummed.

 

“What?” asked Makoto.

 

“They’re the ones you’re worried about?”

 

Before Makoto could probe deeper into that, they reached the bottom of familiar steps leading up to Haru’s place. There, at the top of the flight, sat Haru. The slight pinch of his lips told Makoto he was at least three minutes late. Pinch or not, the sight of him had Makoto feel like the next three days were going to pass by just fine.

 

“Haru,” Makoto greeted, watching his friend start to make his way down, “sorry I’m a little late. I—“

 

“Haru-chan! Mako-chan got married!”

 

Haru paused in mid-step. Gravity was the only thing that brought his foot back down.

 

“Married?” he asked, looking directly at Makoto in a way that had the taller boy’s skin prickling all over.

 

“Yup,” Nagisa said, yanking Makoto’s hand high in the air. “The ceremony ran a little late—“

 

Makoto tried to free himself, going redder by each thudding heartbeat. Whether it was from the blonde’s teasing or Haru’s stare, he knew which affected him more and didn’t want it to. “N-Nagisa!”

 

Haru’s gaze flicked off him and onto the hand. At the proper angle, the sun glimmered off the smooth face of the ring. The way Haru barely crinkled his nose could have fooled an untrained eye to assume the light had bounced off eyes offensively.

 

Despite Nagisa’s laughter, Haru’s silence was deafening on Makoto. Quickly, he freed himself with a final pull and waved his hands at Haru. “It’s not that! It was a whole thing with getting my Dad’s new ring, it’s my parents' anniversary soon, and—”

 

Realizing this only augmented the ring on his left hand, Makoto shoved it behind his back and scratched at his jaw with his other. When had he began rambling as if he had committed treason (adultery)?

 

“I mean,” he forced himself to shut up a moment and collect his thoughts. “We were busy doing other errands that we didn’t realize the ring hadn’t been fitted before we left. My dad and I have the same size pretty much, so…”

 

Haru blinked.

 

“Your dad’s ring,” he said.

 

Makoto nodded.

 

“Aw, that’s no fun,” Nagisa said, waving around his treat. “I was hoping to see how many people we could convince that Mako-chan was married.”

 

“There’s a spider on your bread,” Haru said.

 

Nagisa recoiled with a cry, then realized too late the prank for what it was as the remnants of his treat crumbled to the floor, scattering crumbs. A familiar, white cat scurried out of the bushes in time to nibble on its corpse.

 

Nagisa frowned at the lost treat. “So cruel, Haru-chan…”

 

“She needed to eat anyway,” Haru said, watching the cat before looking back at Makoto. “She doesn’t like my mackerel.”

 

Makoto broke into a smile, his earlier turmoil dissipating. “I didn’t know you fed her.”

 

Haru looked away. “I don’t.”

 

Makoto didn’t press him on the matter, merely smiled gently.

 

“Now we know the topic of Mako-chan’s marriage can delay Haru-chan from getting to the water,” Nagisa said, a little too loudly, fishing out yet another sweet bread. He flashed it at Haru before munching away at it.

 

Haru straightened before descending down the steps at a stiffer pace. As he strode past, his eyes snuck a glance Makoto missed at the ring.

 

“Does it hurt?” Haru asked. For an absurd moment, Makoto thought he was going to touch his hand.

 

When Haru didn’t, Makoto looked down at his hand, less to inspect what he already knew and more to spare himself a few seconds from looking at Haru. “Not really. Sometimes if I bend it or if someone tries to pull off, a little.”

 

There was a sound, like a grunt, before Haru added in a lower voice, “Don’t strain it.”

 

The warmth reached down into Makoto’s toes, a recognizable sensation that had been washing over him more so the last week. Something had shifted between him and Haru that day, ineffable and beyond his capability to dilute it to its simplese form. What he did know was that it had been toying with his mind relentlessly, searching for further meaning in the way he had clasped Haru’s hand, locked gazes, or the way he thought Haru leaned into the embrace.

 

Since then, Haru’s lips curved up more easily, and Makoto could swear he felt Haru’s gaze on him more, or thought Haru’s arm brushed against his more often. Then again, it all could have been a manipulation of Makoto’s own mind. Maybe his hope kept grasping at straws now that it had seen a sparkle of light.

 

“Hey, Haru-chan, Mako-chan, wait up!” Nagisa scurried after them. “Rei-chan is already at the pool, you know. He said…”

 

Makoto half-listened as he maintained Haru’s pace, replaying the events at the staircase again in his head. For a stupid moment, he allowed himself to believe that he saw something in Haru’s expression during Nagisa’s joke. He wasn’t sure what, but it had tickled something inside him.

 

He repressed all of it down with great effort. One issue at a time; right now, he had a tenacious ring on his hand to be mindful of.

 

“Did you really think Mako-chan got married?” Nagisa was asking now, and Makoto’s ears perked up.

 

“Not really,” Haru said.

 

“Hm. So you don’t mind if Mako-chan got married?”

 

Makoto didn’t want to hear the response to that as much as he really, really did. “Nagisa,” he interrupted, “you shouldn’t eat so much before swimming.”

 

“What? I’ve never had a problem before—“

 

“We’ve proved Nagisa’s stomach is a black hole,” Haru said.

 

It sounded light for Haru’s tone. He'd made a joke. Nagisa himself shared a laugh once his petulant expression waned. It did all kinds of good things to hear Haru engage in joke-telling. Makoto wouldn’t mind devoting his time to hearing more jokes from him, corny or not.

 

But it was only Makoto’s smile was that reflected those good feelings inside as he glanced at Haru. And caught Haru glancing back at him. Their eyes met for what was a mere fraction of a second, but it felt like minutes. Butterflies fluttered in Makoto’s chest and remained after Haru quickly looked ahead again.

 

Just as Makoto convinced himself it had been his own mind churning out tricks again, shrill voices broke through his revere.

 

“Ah, Nagisa-kun, Makoto-kun! Haruka-kun, too!”

 

Dread weighed down Makoto’s steps at recognizing the voices. His smile faltered. Seemed he had pushed his good fortune by forgetting the day’s earlier omen.

 

Three schoolmates flounced their way, girls he almost wished he didn’t know at that moment. Much like few saw Haru without Makoto in tow, Makoto had never seen these three apart. Nagisa had remarked that, like them, their names held importance in their bonding; each of the girls’ names began with the letter A. In all honesty, Makoto didn’t have plans to know expand his knowledge about them beyond that and their proclivity for hearsay.

 

Makoto minded the placement of his left hand as they approached. Haru, who had stopped at his right, maneuvered to stand on his left now.

 

“Akari-chan, Ayami-chan, Akemi-chan,” Makoto greeted, along with Nagisa. Haru didn’t so much as blink.

 

The tallest, Ayami, matching Makoto’s height, stepped closer. It made her gaze that much more intense, and it always looked intense as far as Makoto could tell, like she needed his undivided attention at all times ever since he’d been her partner for a project the year before. Her eyes weren't as blue as Haru's, nor did her smile do anything for him.

 

“It’s good to see you all. We heard about the tournament, but we’re betting you’ll take us to nationals next time.” Ayami surveyed their clothing. “Don’t tell me you’re all headed to practice right now."

 

Nagisa nodded. "Yup. We have nationals to make after all."

 

"Again? On a day off?”

 

“A day off doesn’t affect when we swim,” Haru said. There was no trace of humor in his expression or tone.

 

“That’s a shame,” Ayami said through a frown. “You guys should join us sometime for a meal or movie sometime. If all you do is practice…”

 

Makoto raised his right hand and waved off the pout. Beside him, it felt like Haru’s body heat was skyrocketing. “But it’s alright,” Makoto said, faster than he meant to. “We have fun swimming together so it never feels like work. But thank you for the offer, maybe another time?”

 

“Maybe one day you could show Ayami-chan your backstroke,” one of the other girls chimed in before bursting into a fit of giggles.

 

Ayami’s face went pink, but she merely cleared her throat and studied Makoto, as if expecting him to answer that.

 

Between Nagisa’s smirk and Haru’s stare, Makoto felt like he had gotten himself trapped between something unpleasant and something vile. They were nice enough girls, Ayami especially despite her intimidating nature. Then why did the air turn so cold in a matter of seconds?

 

The ring around his finger felt tighter.

 

“A-Ah, well,” he started, unsure how to go about a response.

 

Haru’s mouth opened, but Nagisa cut him off.

 

“It’s true Mako-chan would make a good boyfriend, isn’t it?” he asked the girls, who shared a round of blushes. “He’s compassionate, very thoughtful of others, and probably very romantic deep down, though probably not as fun as me.”

 

Makoto blanched as Nagisa bullied his way through Haru onto his left arm. “But it’s only fair to warn you girls that he’s taken.”

 

The girls tilted their heads. “Eh?”

 

“Nagisa, wh—“

 

“Ta-da!” With no preamble, Nagisa thrust Makoto’s hand up for them to behold.

 

Exclamations tangled into one another, and Makoto tried his best to shake off their suspicions. Was he seeing someone from their class? It couldn’t be that one, could it? No, by the look of the band (and they sure got their full of it), it must be an older woman. Or maybe…

 

Ayami seemed to remember something and glanced at Haru. Makoto couldn’t spare him a peek, too busy fumbling over the explanation about his mother’s gift—though little good it did him. He was engulfed in their curiosity, stomach made worse by the lingering smell of a potent body spray or perfume.

 

Then, they were gone. A yank, a bit too hard, had him breaching for fresh air again.

 

It was Haru, gripping his arm with a vice Makoto could feel deep in his bones.

 

“You’re making us late,” he told the girls. “Makoto already told you what happened.”

 

And, like that, Haru steered him away, leaving Nagisa behind to nervously laugh off the rudeness. Makoto didn’t even have the luxury to look back, worried he’d pull a muscle at the rate Haru hauled him. More so, he couldn’t even offer an apology back to the girls and a promise to see them at school. He’d lost his voice upon the feel of Haru’s hands on him, still on him, holding him, burning hot.

 

Like a dumb-struck child, he let himself be dragged.

 

Only once Nagisa whined after them and caught up, could he breathe properly again.

 

“Haru…”

 

The hands released him. Haru slowed his pace and continued forward as if nothing had happened.

 

“They were bothering you,” was all he tossed over his shoulder.

 

Wide-eyed, Makoto stared at his friend’s back. Beside him, Nagisa nudged him and added in a whisper, “I haven’t seen Haru-chan like that in a while.”

 

Makoto narrowed an eye at him. “Huh? What do you mean?” He had half the mind to tell Nagisa he started the ordeal.

 

At that, Nagisa only sighed as if he was speaking to a toddler. Instead of elaborating, he reached back for the treat he had secured back in the shopping bag at some point.

 

A strained silence hung heavy as they continued on, punctuated by Nagisa’s chatter or chewing. Makoto couldn’t stop stealing glances at Haru. Maybe he was waiting for another chance to meet his friend’s gaze and find some answers in it. Maybe he was just parched for an excuse to—to what? Say something, do something?

 

The distant splash of water decided on his silence.  All their attention went straight for the sound of someone tearing through the water like a predator.

 

“Sounds like Rin-chan’s already arrived,” Nagisa said. “Come on! Hurry, hurry.”

 

Makoto didn’t miss the curve of Haru’s mouth as he lead the way into the pool grounds.

 

By the time they entered the premises Makoto reminded himself to put a lid on his fantasies before they got the better of him. Already they were making him think he saw Haru looking at those girls the same subtle way he looked reading about the severity of the most recent pollution done to the ocean.

 

He fixated his attention on the edge of the pool where Rei stood, stopwatch in hand. They all were on time to witness Rin breach the surface with a powerful finish.

 

“Again,” Rei said, staring at the time. “Another personal best.”

 

“Damn right,” Rin said. “I told you you’d eat your words.”

 

“Rin-chan is amazing that way,” Nagisa exclaimed, smiling his greeting to them. “You two seem to have been practicing hard. ‘Such commitment is beautiful’, as Rei-chan would say.”

 

“Are you mocking my tone again?”

 

Nagisa kept his tone low. “Never, Rei-chan.”

 

Rei sighed, but easily recovered, as he seemed to have learned to do by now when it came to Nagisa. “Makoto-senpai. Haruka-senpai.”

 

Haru nodded in greeting, his eyes falling to Rin for too many seconds (Makoto counted) before a flurry of movement told everyone he had stripped and dived into the pool.

 

“There he goes again,” Rin said, scoffing around a smile. For a moment (too many seconds as well), he watched Haru before hauling himself out. “You’re all pretty late.”

 

Makoto smiled his hello to the both of them, both basking in the camaraderie that had been established between them all, as much as fighting off a cold hand around his heart. "Looks like you're ready for a race, Rin."

 

"Always am. We'll see if the same can be said about you," Rin replied through his shark's smile. 

 

“Hey, I thought Gou would be here by now,” Nagisa said.

 

Rin shrugged. “She was, but she was sneezing her lungs out.”

 

"Is she alright?" asked Makoto.

 

From behind Rin, Rei smiled. “Her big brother did not appreciate her being out in her condition. He made sure she got back to bed.”

 

At Rin’s scowl, Nagisa laughed and added fuel to that fire, insisting it was sweet Rin still harbored affection to the sister he had hardly spoken to over a stretch of years. Makoto couldn’t resist smiling as remnants of Rin’s protectiveness peeked through his pride and passion. It was almost like their friendship had never been fractured.

 

Almost.

 

“What are you smiling at?” Rin shot his way.

 

Makoto held up a hand in peace. “It’s been a bit of a long day is all. Sorry,” he said. He looked at Nagisa, caught his knowing smile. Makoto sighed, one too many times for a twenty-four hour period. Better to air it out and spare himself.

 

He lifted his left hand.

 

Rei’s mouth hung open, while Rin quirked a brow.

 

“Makoto-senpai, when you said a long day, I never would have calculated th—“

 

“It’s not what you think,” Makoto said gently, trying to cotton the impact of the situation with a strained chuckle.

 

“You spoiled it too soon. Who did you think Mako-chan had married?” Nagisa interrupted, easily diverting the attention onto his question rather than Makoto’s explanation.

 

Rin narrowed his eyes at the band, taking hold of Makoto’s wristwith a firm, wet hold. Despite the lapse in friendship, Makoto thought he understood the other boy enough, could even dissect the bulk of his expressions. This one was not one of them.

 

“It’s not—” Rin began, then lost himself to his own mulling. Even when thinking, Makoto noted, Rin brought intensity.

 

Rei handled Makoto’s digits with more care as he, too, inspected the predicament. “I suppose my initial thought was Ha--,” he stopped himself short. His brain realized the near-admission and he recoiled, shaking his head and holding up his hands in a sign of surrender. “N-Not that that had any logical merit to it, beyond the close friendship you have. Or, rather…I mean, legally it’s not possible so it couldn’t have—not that it should be illegal—“

 

Nagisa stuffed Rei’s mouth with the same bread he had been working on. “Rei-chan,” he said, patting his friend on the shoulder. “You’re going to give yourself an aneurism.”

 

Makoto meanwhile had lost his breath. His back had gone taut at the mentioning wisp of Haru's name, his mind a whirlwind. It made him dizzy for the few breaths, once he remembered to breathe, it took to gather himself and will his heart rate down.

 

That wasn’t at all what he had expected.

 

“So?”

 

Makoto straightened, taking in Rin staring at him with a narrowed-eyed look.

 

Rin gestured pointedly at the hand, impatient.

 

“Oh…”

 

Makoto reminded himself his personal thoughts and fantasies were still that, and that he had no cause for a panic. Clearing his throat, he retold the tale of the wedding band, but didn’t feel better for it. When Rin laughed that sharp laugh of his, he felt his smile growing back. That was testament to Rin’s kindling talent, he supposed, igniting something when you didn't think it was possible.

 

“Of course,” Rin said, waving Makoto off. “Why am I not surprised you got yourself into this?”

 

“Hey.”

 

The four of them converged their attention to Haru wading in the water, looking at them with what Makoto found to be expectation.

 

“You’re all standing there,” Haru went on.

 

Nagisa grinned and dumped his bag to the side. “We didn't come here to stand. I brought some food for us to snack on during practice,” he said, squirming out of his pants. “There was plenty left after the reception.”

 

Makoto let the teasing roll over him as he worked on his jacket, aware that social custom dictated that friends get free tickets to teasing. Classmates, however, would have to rely on whispering behind his back.

 

Then, as if the day had not had its fill of playing bully, realization struck Makoto like a bucket of iced water.

 

“I can’t swim.”

 

Nagisa peered out from under his goggles. “Eh? Of course you can swim.”

 

Rei completed his calculations before Makoto could speak. “He means he won’t,” Rei said. “Even if the chances of the chlorine damaging the band were minimized, Makoto-senpai wouldn’t risk it.”

 

For all the miscalculations Rei hit regarding his new companions, Makoto had to admire how capable he proved at picking things up. Nodding his assent, Makoto studied the ring and gestured to the water.

 

“I couldn’t risk it. It’s for my dad, from my mom...”

 

Even with the protection of a bag, however goofy it would look, like that one time Ren’s casted arm had been wrapped, Makoto wouldn’t gamble the odds. He didn’t gamble, even on things that he probably should have.

 

He spared Haru a look, spotting his friend lurking in the deep end, just his eyes visible above the water.

 

"Sorry," Makoto said.

 

Nagisa started, “But—“

 

“It’s okay,” Makoto said quickly, keeping up his smile. “Why don’t I keep everyone’s times and watch your forms? I’m no Gou, but at least you guys can focus on practice.”

 

For once, he didn’t bring himself to look at Haru again, if only to spare himself the reminder right then and there that he wouldn’t be joining Haru in a swim for the next few days. Instead, Makoto busied with the stopwatch and settling at the edge of the pool. A few times he had to swallow a lump back down and endure the fierce stare that came from Rin. 

 

“Are you sure about this, Makoto-senpai?” Rei asked from behind. He was frowning and looking like he was working out a puzzle he couldn’t quite get.

 

“It’s not forever," Makoto replied back. "I’ll miss swimming, but I’ll just have to make up for it.” He hoped his tone assuaged Rei’s concerns. “Plus, it’s not so bad watching sometimes.”

 

Though not looking completely convinced, Rei respected his decision with a nod. “Would you mind timing me first, then? As annoying it is to watch him, Rin gave some effective tips.”

 

“What?” Nagisa called from the middle of a lane. “I want Mako-chan to time me first!”

 

“You’re not even at the starting point!”

 

“Don’t be so unfair, Rei-chan.”

 

“U-Unfair? But you’re—“

 

“Hey!” Rin’s voice carried like thunder from where he had reached the other side. “Are you here to argue or are you here to swim?”

 

Makoto muted his laugh, allowing the two to work it out for themselves. There was something assuring about the bickering, plus he’d had his share of trouble for the day to last him months as it was to not interfere. That meant his attention was left open, susceptible to the pull that he’d been afflicted with since a young age.

 

His gaze drifted to Haru. Like so many others, he was enamored with the sight of him swimming. Some days he didn’t know if he liked watching Haru swim more than he did swimming with his friend. Before their reconciliation with Rin, water had been the only place Makoto lost some traces of Haru's distress. Rin had stormed into their lives not unlike a tsunami, and Haru had caught the worst of it. Yet, in water Haru seemed almost capable of forgetting why he'd quit swimming.

 

Makoto never forgot. Each day he’d see it press down on Haru a little more, stealing his humor, discoloring the world around him. Anyone who thought Haru detached himself from humanity had it backwards; Haru felt more than anyone Makoto knew. It was part of what made him beautiful.

 

Faintly, he thought he heard someone chanting his name.

 

“Mako-chan!” A wet hand touched his leg.

 

Rattled out of his stare, Makoto returned his eyes on Rei and spotted Nagisa hugging the lip of the pool.

 

“Mako-chan, a good score keeper doesn’t get distracted,” he sang again, a little too cheery. "You’re going to time me first.”

 

“A-Ah, sure,” Makoto said. There was no reason to blush, but he felt it coming on all the same.

 

He willed himself to set the stopwatch, unaware of his left thumb rubbing the wedding band.

 

“Ready…set…go!”

 

 

**-x-**

 

 

 As it always did, practice dismantled for the sake of well earned fun and relaxation. Makoto watched it unfold smoothly before him, the stopwatch and his notes abandoned on a chair for the time being. He chuckled at the games Nagisa played, more often than not earning him a few promises of bodily harm in the process, all in good fun. Rei was the primary victim to it.

 

It was nice, surreal almost, to see them all swimming contently, to have watched them practice. Makoto smiled more than once at Rei’s determination during it. The guy came a long way’s since tentatively joining their team, since his own battle with emotions had him confront Rin himself. Now, Makoto couldn’t decipher any part of Rei’s body language that said he didn’t feel like he belonged.

 

“Ah, too slow!” Rin laughed and held up Nagisa’s goggles. “I thought you said you’d been practicing hard.”

 

“Rei-chan, get him!”

 

“Wh-What? Why do I have to do it?”

 

“You’d make a terrible husband, Rei-chan.”

 

“Not as bad as you, Nagisa,” Rin said, grinning as he tossed the pinched goggles back to their owner.

 

Rin.

 

It did good to have him back, Makoto believed that without having to observe the scene before him. That moment when they’d all embraced after the tournament and subsequently taken a photo with Rei warmed him down to his core to this day. Joy, and sympathy in some cases, had eclipsed any ill feelings for the way Rin had treated them all.

 

For how he had treated Haru.

 

Though Rin engaged himself with them as a group, Rei included, as if he hadn’t missed years of friendship, it was his interaction with Haru that piqued Makoto’s interest. He could see it like a map plotted in his mind with the view he had of the entire pool. When Haru lazed on his back, Rin swam up and chatted him up. More than once he earned himself a small Haru-smile. More than once he touched Haru.

 

Makoto’s heart lurched. He swallowed it back down. How watching Rin and Haru interact could bring him such peace and uncertainty was beyond his understanding.  Or rather, he understood, but didn’t want to.

 

Makoto wondered if he’d forever walk around with that oxymoron.

 

“Mako-chan.”

 

Makoto looked down in time for Nagisa to swim up to his legs, which were the only things he’d allowed to get wet. He might not have been able to swim with Haru, but at least he could get a taste of it like this.

 

“You miss swimming with Haru-chan that badly, hm?” Nagisa said with that intelligent smile of his.

 

Makoto, feeling his thoughts invaded, said, “I do miss swimming with all of you, but at least I was able to help—“

 

Nagisa’s heavy exhale drowned his words. “Mako-chan, you’re never going to be a decent enough husband if you think like that.”

 

Makoto blinked. “Eh?”

 

“Don’t you want to get married some day, for real?”

 

Makoto had never really considered it, as it was for most boys his age he would think. Well, he supposed there was one (or two or three) times his childish self had fabricated fantasies about marriage. A child’s mind knew no limits though, lacked the understanding of consequences and reality. Makoto didn’t let himself tread such dangerous territory now.

 

“You sure are interested in this topic, Nagisa,” he said honestly, taking another look at the band. Throughout bursts of practice, his friends remarked on the subject of who would marry whom, all for the sake of humor. The subcategories of that discussion had ranged from playful to downright ridiculous (Haru couldn’t legally marry water). A few jabs at Gou being given away to Rin’s captain had earned the short-lived wrath of brotherly protection Rin insisted he did not have.

 

Makoto noticed that Haru did not participate in any of it.

 

“I’m interested in various things, including my friends. What’s wrong with that?”

 

"Well, nothing."

 

"Don't worry. You'll get it." It was all Nagisa would offer before he flashed a grin, stole a glance at Haru, then sank under the water.

 

Makoto realized he was playing with the band again.

 

Carefully, he got out of the water and dried off his legs, unsure how the short exchange with Nagisa left him feeling so wilted. Maybe his weak heart was just getting weaker.

 

Maybe he was thinking of too many maybes lately.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Makoto jolted at how close Rin sounded. Whirling around, he shakily exhaled a fraction of his anxiety.

 

“Nagisa only brought food,” he thought up quickly. “I figured I should grab us some drinks.”

 

Rin tilted his head, water running rivulets down his face. His eyes flicked over to the bag where water bottles had been nestling. Makoto held his breath.

 

“Okay,” Rin said, grabbing a towel of his own. “I’ll come with.”

 

“Oh, you don—“

 

“You’ll need help carrying them.”

 

When he’d finished drying, he snatched Makoto’s jacket and tossed it his way.

 

Makoto couldn’t help his smile. “Thanks,” he said.

 

They bid a temporary farewell to the others, and lingered only to take down Nagisa’s order on what particular drinks he wanted brought back. They left the pool, and Makoto snuck a glance to spot Haru, still in the water, looking after them, still silent, eyes an iota wider than usual.

 

Makoto wondered over that as they maneuvered their way through an alley.

 

“Your times aren’t so bad,” Rin said.

 

Makoto lifted his head. “We have been practicing hard since Nagisa started the club.”

 

“I’m not surprised he started all this.”

 

 “I suppose we all owe him a big thanks for thinking of it.”

 

Rin snorted. “Nagisa doesn’t think. He schemes.”

 

There was merit behind that, though Makoto doubted Nagisa had designed the swim club to get them all back together. He couldn’t have, right?

 

“Well, now you’re swimming with us,” Makoto said, softer.

 

Rin chuckled and narrowed an eye at him. “You all missed me so much, huh?”

 

“Like you didn’t miss us.” Makoto clamped down on his tongue, realizing it had come out before he had the foresight to stop it.

 

But Rin didn’t miss a beat in his step as he said, “Yeah. I did.”

 

There was a small market nearby that stored more drink than food. Inside, they selected their purchases around idle chitchat, casual stuff that had Makoto remember just how much had passed since Rin isolated himself from the group. It was refreshing to see his grins instead of that contorted, tense face that didn't suit Rin at all but had almost always made its home there since his return from Australia. Makoto didn't doubt his happiness. Rin wouldn't linger on regret for time lost, instead seizing each moment spent with friends, new and old.

 

Makoto supposed that courage is what made them so different.

 

At the register, Makoto’s mouth tilted into a half-smile when the clerk examined his left hand. A comment about how he looked too young to be married earned her a bite from Rin in the form of ‘and you seem a bit young to be prying into your elder’s affairs’. Makoto could hardly comprehend the poor girl’s stuttered apology, let alone that Rin had paid for the drinks.

 

Flustered, the girl accepted the payment. Makoto lost the chance to offer her a sympathetic look before the pressure of Rin’s arm dragged him out. It felt like dragging him was a common theme today.

 

“Ch. Like it’s her business who you marry,” Rin muttered, shoving one of the bags for Makoto to carry now that they had put the store behind them.

 

“It’s not like I’m even married,” Makoto reminded.

 

Rin shot him a funny look. He stood there, lurking like the predator some mistook him to be, eyes grazing over every inch of Makoto. It felt like too long when he smirked and said, “You really haven’t changed.”

 

Makoto blinked when Rin turned his back and started walking. “Was I supposed to?”

 

“That’s not what I mean,” Rin said.

 

“You haven’t changed either.”

 

Rin paused. “What?”

 

Makoto peered out beyond the fence flanking their right. At the right angle, he could see the ocean. “I don’t think you ever really forgot what it was about swimming that inspired you,” he said. He didn’t have to say more; Rin’s volatile behavior leading up to the tournament had all been a manifestation of what he couldn’t forget but had tried to.

 

There was a snort, and Makoto didn’t have to look to know Rin was not looking his way. “What about you?” Rin asked suddenly.

 

Both of them had stopped walking.

 

“Me?” Makoto asked.

 

“You haven’t forgotten either, but here you are letting things stay as they are.”

 

Makoto opened his mouth. Nothing came out. “I don’t under—“

 

“We all end up dead in the end. If things go well, you’ll be old when you’re dying, and is that when you want to look back and regret?”

 

Makoto bristled. It was as if his insides were on display for the world to see, for Rin to burn through, and he could. Rin was a conflagration. Makoto was not.

 

He smiled and looked at the ground. “It’s…not the same,” he heard himself saying.

 

For a while, there was nothing but the buzz of the city in the near distance.

 

“You don’t want Haru to look at you the way he looks at me,” Rin said.

 

Makoto’s head snapped up. All he could see was Rin’s back, see the smooth line of his jaw, but not much else. One step and he could have read Rin’s entire expression. Somehow Makoto knew if he did, he would press a boundary he had no right to cross.

 

It didn’t meant he couldn’t offer something back. After a thought, he said, “Haru stopped swimming because of you."

 

For a moment, no response, and then a soft laugh. Makoto softened. He hadn’t heard Rin laugh like that in too long.

 

“You wouldn't compliment a shark for crippling a surfer.”

 

Makoto wasn’t entirely sure he’d been gifted a piece of Rin just with those words. He smiled anyway. “That's rather mature.”

 

“You just noticed? I’ve always been more mature and knowledgeable than all of you.” He twisted his mouth into a half-smirk. "Though you'd have to be blind or plain dumb to not see how you look at him."

 

Makoto couldn’t stop himself. He laughed, and the sound that came muffled out of Rin assured him his old friend had laughed too.

 

When the laugh ebbed, Makoto asked, “So who was it?”

 

Rin looked at him finally, both brows arched up. “Who was it what?”

 

“Someone must have told you that line about dying. You sound like you were reciting it,” Makoto said. “It’s the same when Haru quotes his grandmother.”

 

It might have been the angle of the setting sun, but Rin’s cheeks looked a little pink. When the pause stretched out between them, Makoto believed he wouldn’t get a reply.

 

Then, Rin was shrugging. “That kid,” he started. “Ai-er…Nitori.”

 

Makoto’s eyes widened. “The one you mentioned practicing with sometimes? From your team, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Wasn’t he the one who was shouting your name the loudest at the tour—“

 

Rin shot him a look. The sunset colors did Rin’s coloration no favors. “That’s not important. I’m just saying he had a good point now that I think of it. Guess he didn’t like seeing me in my funk.”

 

"Neither did we."

 

Makoto let the silence fill in for them a while. Then, when he deemed it appropriate to approach Rin, he added, “You should invite him to practice with us sometime.”

 

“Maybe.” Rin scratched his nose. “I’ll think about it.”

 

He turned and deposited the other bag into Makoto’s free hand.

 

“Rin?”

 

“Go on without me,” Rin said, his tone different but Makoto didn’t know exactly why. “It’s getting late anyway and we both have things to do.”

 

Makoto analyzed the comment. He blinked a few times at the bags in his hand. “Things to do?”

 

In a flood of movement, Rin flung his arm around him. “You’re overthinking things again. Give your brain a rest,” he said, flashing his sharp teeth. He shoved off as swiftly as he had attached himself, making his way in the other direction, one hand raised in a casual wave. “Tell the others I’ll see them tomorrow.”

 

“Rin?”

 

“Oh.” Rin stopped. “I guess I owe you thanks too.”

 

“Thanks?”

 

A lengthy pause, then Rin headed off again. When he’d gone far down the path, he called back, “For having kept an eye on Gou all this time.”

 

As Makoto watched him grow smaller, he speculated on whether Nagisa was the only one capable of scheming.

 

 

**-x-**

 

“You’ve been strange lately.”

 

It was the first thing Haru said to him since they had left the pool. Upon returning to the pool, Makoto had found Haru alone, dry, and dressed, not exactly a settling picture. Upon inquiring the whereabouts to their teammates, Haru shrugged and asked about Rin. The answer Makoto supplied had earned him a stare and a quiet companion on their way out.

 

Until now.

 

“Strange?” Makoto repeated.

 

Haru shifted the bag he’d taken off Makoto’s load. “This is the first time we’re walking together,” he said.

 

It was true, Makoto realized once he'd digested the words. Since their return from the tournament, the bedlam that followed it had wedged a gap between them. They’d seen each other, true, but always in the company of others and what adjustments and revelry that came with Rin’s presence left little time for Makoto to revisit, let alone indulge, in their personal relationship. Whatever the status it was now.

 

Perhaps that explained the sheer tranquility Makoto felt walking silently beside Haru, mixed emotions and less-than-great day aside. 

 

“It’s been a busy week,” Makoto admitted.

 

“Rin’s back.”

 

Makoto lowered his eyes. “I'm glad you patched things up. It’s good we’re all swimming together, Rei too. I don’t think Rin will forget what he did for him.”

 

“Makoto.”

 

Gradually, Makoto raised his head. Haru stood still, facing him. Makoto saw his throat muscles working until those blue eyes went toward the ocean. Having it stretch on one side of them meant taking a longer route to Haru’s place. Makoto never minded the extra time.

 

“Rin reminded me,” Haru began, “that swimming free isn’t everything to me. That…there are other things.”

 

Makoto knew that already. “We all changed a little that day, didn’t we?”

 

“Your stroke,” Haru said, meeting his eyes, “it was different. You weren’t afraid.”

 

Makoto sucked in a breath, mentally chiding himself for assuming Haru wouldn’t have picked up on his development. “I wasn’t,” he agreed.

 

“You’re afraid now.”

 

“What? I’m not…afraid.“

 

Haru didn’t buy it for a moment.

 

Fear had long since haunted Makoto, so much so it could be considered an old acquaintance. As he got older, it wasn’t a matter of overcoming it as much as honing the technique to conceal it concerning matters that Makoto wouldn’t, but often wanted to, confront.

 

Makoto’s heart constricted. He could have mistaken the band around his finger to have latched onto his heart. Again words skirted out of his reach, feelings tangled into others, and everything felt weird and unsure inside him.

 

This time, it was Haru who translated on his behalf.

 

“Makoto isn’t Rin.”

 

His legs shifted, almost turning his body to face away from Makoto. Something else won out; Haru directed everything Makoto’s way.

 

“Rin coming back,” Haru still had his bumps with communications. He let go of that thought and went another route. His fingers clenched harder around the bag. “I can now think about other things without worrying…”

 

It’s not exactly what he meant to say, but Makoto didn't care. The knot inside him was unraveling and he couldn’t look away from Haru no matter how hot his face felt right now.

 

“You were always there,” Haru was trying again, and this time he looked away, only for a heartbeat. “You always pulled me out.”

 

“I always will,” Makoto finished.

 

“I know.” Haru pursed his lips and did glance fully away.

 

Makoto might not have been Rin, but that did not mean he lacked fervor, or that he was lackluster. For one person, if no one else, feelings surged through him, made him woozy, and were, ironically perhaps, the reason Makoto had taken the role of supporter, his ardor so strong he would not force it on Haru in any form. Instead he would linger, waiting, and waiting, and that might have been the extent of it were it not for what had transpired in less than a month.

 

Others might have dubbed Haru equally docile, or thought his taciturn nature bordering anti-social. Makoto knew best that, like running a parallel path alongside Rin, Haru was his own personification of impulsions and passion.

 

It proved true then: Haru abandoned the bag, closed the distance between them, and looked straight at Makoto’s left hand.

 

Haru didn’t have to say anything for Makoto to know he was replaying all the jokes, the comments those girls made, everything that went back to that piece of metal.

 

“It sure caused a lot of interesting things to happen today, didn’t it,” Makoto said, lifting it to the space between their chests. If he spread his fingers, his pink would bump Haru's.

 

He nearly jumped out of his shoes when Haru took his hand into both of his. Countless experiences before had familiarized Makoto to the texture of Haru’s hand, but rarely dry like this, and not so intimate. There was no water to buffer the sensation of Haru’s fingertips grazing over his palm, along his longer fingers, across the back of his hand, around the tender skin around the ring.

 

To Makoto’s further surprise, his fingers kissed back. Their audacity came from somewhere within him he never knew he had. Maybe this is what it meant to have confidence. Maybe it was just the natural reaction to Haru being the one to touch him first.

 

“It’s a little swollen,” Haru said.

 

Makoto could hardly tell, but didn’t think it necessary to question Haru’s inspection. “I’ll put ice around it.” He was too occupied with the way their fingers danced, until finally they threaded, palm against palm.

 

“People will be annoying about it tomorrow,” Haru said.

 

That fact didn’t so much as dent the feeling of Haru holding his hand. “Mm,” he said in agreement, and they started walking again. “Who knew a simple ring of metal could cause such drama?”

 

“Frodo.”

 

Makoto didn’t recognize the joke until a few steps later, after Haru bent to pick up the bag he’d left. Then, Makoto burst into a laugh, the deepest one he’d experienced in too long a time. He had to stop walking to collect himself again.

 

“Yeah,” he said, wiping an eye, “I guess he would know.”

 

“I remembered the movie,” Haru said, eyebrows furrowing, but he hadn't stopped smiling during Makoto’s laughter.

 

More accurately, Haru probably remembered each time Makoto clung to him or ducked his face behind his back at the parts only Makoto would find frightening or had the potential to be frightening.

 

“We never saw the last one,” Makoto said.

 

“Okay.”

 

Makoto opened his mouth, then shut it. Who was he to question a night in watching movies?

 

His thumb brushed over Haru’s hand.

 

“I should have mentioned this earlier,” Makoto said, aware how coy he sounded. “My mom invited you for dinner. She’s making—“

 

“Okay.” Haru squeezed his hand before adding, “That’d…be nice.”

 

It would be.

  
Makoto decided to let the mackerel be a surprising touch.

 

The purr of the waves kept their amiable silence company. Before they passed Haru’s place, Makoto felt a light tug steering him toward it, up the flight of stairs where Haru had been waiting. The cat was gone.

 

“Haru?”

 

“Need to get something,” Haru said.

 

He released Makoto’s hand to unlock the door. With purpose, he strode his way in, leaving the bag to collect dust. Makoto could only trail on his heels, curious.

 

“You can borrow my clothes like usual,” he started to say, but stopped short when Haru rummaged through a drawer that didn't store clothing.

 

Haru plucked out a velvet box seconds later, so similar to the one the wedding band that would have been waiting for his father to open.

 

“It was my grandma’s,” Haru explained as he delicately pried the top open.

 

Makoto’s jaw hung open.

 

What must have been real sapphires winked across a silver band, five in total. It had been crafted with a woman’s finger in mind, yet its thickness and size instilled a touch of masculinity. Makoto recalled Haru’s grandmother never having such dainty fingers to begin with.

 

“It was my favorite piece as a kid,” Haru said, his handling of the accesory telling how dear he had held her. “She let me hold it sometimes. It reminded me of the ocean.”

 

“Haru…”

 

And, just like that, Haru tucked it onto his ring finger.

 

“Wha--”

 

Haru flexed his fingers. As predicted, it was snug.

 

“Is it stuck?” Makoto asked, gawking.

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Haru!”

 

“She use to say that marriage was just a formality.”

 

Any further protests shriveled up at the way Haru studied his own hand. Makoto found it hard to breathe again, and his heart started pounding too hard against his chest when that gaze rested on him.

 

Haru was smiling. It wasn’t big, but might as well have blown Makoto off his feet.

 

He smiled back. It proved easy to reach over and take Haru’s hand into his own. Difficult, impulsive, beautiful Haru, because Haru was beauty in its rawest form, in and out, as far as Makoto could tell. Granted he might have been biased, but that was okay.

 

“People will talk less about it,” Haru finally said as way of explanation.

 

Makoto had plenty reasons to counter that this would raise more questions than anything else. He had more reason to submit to the urge that had been breathing down his neck for so long.

 

It took all his nerve, and there wasn’t that much of that to start with, to tilt his head down just a fraction, eyes shut tight. Nothing had ever been so terrifying in his life as this.

 

Haru met him eighty percent of the way and he wasn't afraid anymore.

 

Makoto couldn't help note their first kiss wasn't in water.

 

He sank into it as if they were. Their mouths didn’t linger long against one another, a mere greeting of contact from both sides. Makoto’s free hand blindly found its way to Haru’s low back as the other stay paired with Haru's. Though the hand at Haru's back didn’t apply any pressure, heleaned a tad closer all the same, not close enough to touch but enough to share body heat.

 

Haru remained that way even as their lips parted with a soft smack. Makoto hoped to hear that sound again soon. For now, he opened his eyes, relishing the sight of a pink Haru sneaking a peek up at him.

 

“You’re all red,” Haru mumbled.

 

“Kissing Haru does that it seems.”

 

Haru grunted, and Makoto didn’t deny himself the chance to stifle his chuckle in a kiss to Haru’s forehead. And, because it was long overdue since the first time they clasped hands, Makoto lifted Haru's left one and kissed the skin above the ring.

 

Kissing Haru might become Makoto’s new favorite thing to do.

 

When he lifted his eyes, Haru didn’t look away.

 

Silently, he weaved his fingers back with Makoto’s.

 

“Water makes me happy.” Though the room was cast more in shadow than anything else, Makoto made out every facet of his features.

 

“But it’s not the only thing,” Haru finished.

 

Makoto thought of Rin and the passion he’d sparked in Haru, one that had, in retrospect, been maintained by someone else. Someone who had never strayed far, always with an open palm, and who years later, managed to fuel the spark he thought he’d never been able to feed.

 

The epiphany wiped out conscious thought from Makoto; just like that day of the relay, he lunged forward, only this time it was all Haru in his arms, all Haru he breathed in and all Haru’s heart thumping against his chest.

 

“M-Makoto,” Haru gasped, the bag Makoto had been holding crashing beside their feet.

 

"Haru." Makoto pressed his face into hair he knew he'd run his fingers through tonight.

 

Haru's head tilted, their temples resting against the other. The ring on Haru’s finger was a welcomed pressure on Makoto's back.

 

Later, dinner would prove itself the cacophony of questions and demands, mostly in thanks to Ren and Ran. Later, playing House would take precedence over movie-night, where Haru's tact would sooth Ren's bawling and the boy would do a great impression of a clinging koala. Makoto would see the innate tenderness as Haru helped put the sated children to bed, and an aged fantasy of Makoto's would resurface. And much later, Haru would ice his finger before they settled into the sole bed Haru would insist is big enough, and Makoto would learn there was such a thing as a perfect night's sleep.

 

That was later.

 

Right now, there was a second kiss sucking in all his attention and prospects of what was to come. And when they fumbled for their third, and lingered on the fourth, Makoto decided Haru was well worth any punishment a good deed might throw his way.

 

 

 

**-X-**

 

 


End file.
